The Eleventh Companion
by The Mirthful Menace
Summary: A retelling of the ending of Dragons of a Vanished Moon. To maintain balance in the world, Paladine has had to leave the pantheon of the gods to walk the Earth as a mortal. Meanwhile, his cleric, Crysania, finds herself no longer needed on this plane of existence. An old frenemy comes to guide her on her next journey. Oneshot. Revised, slightly.


**_Author's Note:_**_ Okay, so here's the dealeo. I read the Chaos Wars only once and deemed it a load of crap. I'll not go into it now, as this is a place to write fanfics, not to critique shitty ass books, but let it be known that I have cursed Valin into oblivion and, as such, this fanfic is based on my reality, a reality where Valin never existed. It's not that much of a break from canon – after all, this is set at the end of the War of Souls, so the events that occurred during the Chaos Wars were already altered, if not voided completely. Don't question my logic! P.S. If you're here for smut, you won't find it here. I will not disparage these characters by forcing them to get it on in a story, plus, even if they did decide to, it's really not any of my business. It would feel like a violation of their characters to write about it. You probably already knew this wasn't smut from the T-rating, but just figured I'd clarify. I've read some pretty questionable things under T-rating before. :S_

**_Disclaimer:_**_ I do not own Dragonlance, that honor belongs to the esteemed Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman. I just write fanfics in the hopes of continuing the legacy of Dragonlance, and, specifically, Raistlin Majere. FYI, a great portion of this is taken directly from Dragons of a Vanished Moon. I'm doing my best to tie it into canon, so I had to include some of the original script. Just saying it so I don't get accused later of claiming it to be my own work - as it is, I hope you won't consider what I did put to be plagiarism._

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><p>Crysania bolted awake, eyes that could no longer see stretched wide and staring.<p>

She had felt the touch of the god.

Holding herself perfectly still, Crysania strained to hear something through the silence of the early morn, strained to hear something that would tell her that it was all in her imagination. Paladine had disappeared decades ago. It was impossible, and yet…

She felt it again, stronger this time. The touch was unmistakably Paladine's - each of the gods' connections with their clerics had its own unique flavor, a special feel to it. There was no doubt in Crysania's mind.

She frowned, feeling like laughing and crying and smashing something all at once, but did none of these things. Paladine's touch was soothing and sorrowful at the same time, and she could tell it was not focused on her alone. Rather, it was broad and projected towards a multitude of people, and it was more a barrage of emotions than a distinct message. Crysania would equate it, roughly, to a mother cat's fussing over lost kittens, comforting, worried, and frantic, trying to lick all of them at once.

The door banged open and one of the old clerics of Paladine, who had stayed behind at the temple along with Crysania and a number of others to help the poor and sick, barged in, a white linen nightshirt thrown on haphazardly and hair mussed. Crysania, although she could not see the cleric, recognized his gait, and could hear the rustle of cloth as he entered the room. The man stammered, trying to apologize and beg an explanation at once.

"My lady! The – Pala-did you hea-I- sorry, I didn't know who else to come t – do you feel him?"

"I feel him, Armin," Crysania answered quietly. "Before you ask, I do not know how he has managed to return, nor do I understand the cause of this message. We will have to wait, and listen."

Armin sounded distraught, yet overjoyed. "Yes my lady…are you sure there is nothing more we can do?"

Crysania shook her head. "We must wait until Paladine contacts us directly. There is no use alerting the public – they would not understand and would, rightly, beg an explanation which we cannot give. We must wait."

"Yes, my lady." Armin had the good grace to seem embarrassed now: she could hear him reach up to self-consciously pat his hair down, and straighten the nightshirt as he backed out of the room. "Sorry for the intrusion, my lady, I just –"

"I quite understand, Armin," Crysania smiled warmly. "I suggest you get some sleep, or at least try to sleep. It would appear that great change is coming – you'll want to have a good night's rest."

"Of course, my lady," Armin was already out in the hallway, and sprang forward to softly close the door before backing away. She could hear his footsteps pattering down the hallway.

Crysania sighed in irritation. Armin meant well, and she could hardly blame him, if she could, she'd be going to the next highest authority to demand an explanation as well, but **her** superior was hardly available right now. As it was, Armin had broken her concentration, and she had lost her connection with the god. Down the hallway, she could hear another of the old clerics conversing with Armin, doubtless wanting to know what she had had to say about the phenomenon.

In the old days, she would have immediately called a congregation to call out to the god, but those days were long since past. There were very few of the old clerics left now, just Crysania, Armin, and some others. Many of the others living in the temple were either sick or poor, too weak to care for themselves, and a handful of novitiate healers. It would not have served much benefit, and besides, she could tell that Paladine was currently preoccupied. He would not have answered their calls even if he wanted to.

Casting aside all logic, however, Crysania recognized the true reason why she had not called a congregation - it had been years since she had last felt the touch of Paladine - she wanted to be alone with her thoughts and the god.

Crysania closed her eyes, blocking out their conversation down the hallway. Before she had lost her sight, she probably wouldn't have needed to expend any effort on trying to block it out, but since the...incident, she found her other senses had been enhanced, sharpened so she could hear even the quietest of noises.

She breathed in deeply, reaching out with tendrils of her mind to reinstate her connection with the god.

Crysania exhaled softly in relief, hardly noticing that she had been holding her breath, as she found Paladine once more. Losing the god again, so soon after finding him, would have been unbearable.

She settled back among the pillows of the large bed to listen. In actuality, it wasn't all that large of a bed, but it was made to appear larger by the absence of an additional person. Although Crysania had had many admirers over the years, she had never accepted a suitor. Even if she had been interested in marrying, or even just sharing a bed with someone, she found that they all paled in comparison to a certain black-robed mage.

Raistlin Majere had been the only one to truly understand her, perhaps even better than she understood herself. He had shown her the truth of the world, how the wealthy and "enlightened" ignore the darker corners and ugliness of the word in order to preserve their own sense of goodness and accomplishment. It was a bittersweet epiphany, exasperated by the fact that Raistlin had pointedly dismissed the notion that there could be any value in love and selflessness - at least for himself. That was where he and Crysania had differed. Yet, still, even though Raistlin had openly admitted he could never care for her, she continued to love him.

Abruptly, Crysania tore herself away from the tangential path of her thoughts. The god's emotion had suddenly switched to one of deep anger. Unconsciously, she trembled slightly. Paladine rarely grew angry, and when he did, his anger was something to be feared.

Last time he had been truly angry, he had cast a fiery mountain down on the temple of Ishtar, damning the impetuous Kingpriest for his transgressions against the gods.

The anger continued to grow, until, just as it reached a crescendo, it began to ebb, instead being replaced by profound sorrow. Confused, Crysania forced herself to listen more intently, trying to grasp whatever it was that she had been missing.

Through the sadness, one thought burst through, entering the murk of emotions like a pale sun on a bleak winter's day. "Farewell."

Crysania bolted forward, her mouth forming words but none passing her lips. _Was he leaving again? So soon? What was happening? Wh-_

Suddenly, Paladine's presence left her completely, leaving her alone, once, again, in the dark hours of the early morning.

* * *

><p>The children of the gods, Nuitari, Lunitari, Solinari, entered the former Temple of the Heart. The body of the wizard Dalamar sat upon a bench, staring at nothing.<p>

The gods of magic took their places before the dark and abandoned altar.

"Let the wizard, Raistlin Majere, come forth."

Raistlin emerged from the darkness and ruins of the temple. The hem of his black velvet robe scattered the amber shards that still lay upon the floor of this temple, for no one could be found who dared touch the accursed remnants of the sarcophogus that had imprisoned the body of Goldmoon. He trod upon them, crushed the amber beneath his feet.

In his arms, Raistlin held a body, shrouded in white.

"Your spirit is freed," said Solinari sternly. "Your twin brother awaits you. You promised to leave the world. You must keep that promise."

"I have no intention of remaining here," Raistlin returned. "My brother awaits, as do my former companions."

"They have forgiven you?"

"Or I have forgiven them," Raistlin returned smoothly. "The matter is between friends and none of your concern." He looked down at the body he held in his arms. "But this is."

Raistlin laid the body of his nephew at the feet of the gods. Then, drawing back his hood, he faced the three siblings.

"I ask one last boon of you, of all of you," said Raistlin. "Restore Palin to life. Restore him to his family."

"And why should we do this?" Lunitari demanded.

"His steps strayed onto the path that I once walked," said Raistlin. "He saw his mistake at the end, but he could not live to redeem it. If you give him back his life, he will be able to retrace his wandering footsteps and find the way home."

"As you could not," said Lunitari gently.

"As I could not," said Raistlin.

"Brothers?" Lunitari turned to Solinari and Nuitari. "What do you say to this?"

"I say that there is another matter to be decided, as well," said Nuitari. "Let the wizard Dalamar come forth.

The elf's body sat unmoving on the bench. The spirit of the wizard stood behind the body. Wary, tense,

Dalamar approached the gods.

"You betrayed us," said Nuitari, accusing.

"You sided with Takhisis," said Lunitari, "and we nearly lost the one chance we had to return to the world."

"You betrayed our worshiper Palin," said Solinari sternly. "By her command, you murdered him."

Dalamar looked from one shining god to the next and when he spoke, his soul's voice was soft and bitter. "How could you possibly understand? How would you know what it feels like to lose everything?"

"Perhaps," said Lunitari, "we understand better than you think."

Dalamar kept silent, made no response.

"What is to be done with him?" Lunitari asked. "Is he to be given back his life?"

"Unless you give me back the magic," Dalamar interposed, "don't bother."

"I say we do not," said Solinari. "He used the dead to work his black arts. He does not deserve our mercy."

"I say we do," said Nuitari coolly. "If you restore Palin to life and offer him the magic, you must do the same

for Dalamar. The balance must be maintained."

"What do you say. Cousin?" Solinari asked Lunitari.

"Will you accept my judgment?" she asked.

Solinari and Nuitari eyed each other, then both nodded.

"This is my decree. Dalamar shall be restored to life and the magic, but he must leave the Tower of High

Sorcery he once occupied. He will henceforth be barred from entry there. He must return to the world of the living and be forced to make his way among them. Palin Majere will also be restored to life. We will grant him the magic, if he wants it. Are these terms satisfactory to you both, Cousins?"

"They are to me," said Nuitari.

"And to me," said Solinari.

"And are they satisfactory to you, Dalamar?" Lunitari asked.

Dalamar had what he wanted, and that was all he cared about. As for the rest, he would return to the world.

Someday, perhaps, he would rule the world.

"They are, Lady," he said.

"Are these satisfactory to you, Raistlin Majere?" Lunitari asked.

Raistlin bowed his hooded head.

"Then both requests are granted. We grant life, and we gift you with the magic,"

"I thank you, lords and lady," Dalamar said, bowing again. His gaze lingered for a moment on Nuitari, who understood perfectly.

Raistlin knelt beside the body of his nephew. He drew back the white shroud. Palin's eyes opened. He gazed around in shocked bewilderment, then his gaze fixed on his uncle. Palin's shock deepened.

"Uncle!" he gasped. Sitting up, he tried to reach out to take his uncle's hand. His fingers, flesh and bone and blood, slid through Raistlin's hand that was the ephemeral hand of the dead.

Palin stared at his hand, and the realization came to him that he was alive. He looked at his hands, so like the hands of his uncle, with their long, delicate fingers, and he could move those fingers, and they would obey his commands.

"I thank you," Palin said, lifting his head to see the gods in their radiance around him. "I thank you, Uncle," He paused, then said, "Once you foretold that I would be the greatest mage ever to live upon Krynn. I do not think that will come to pass."

"We had much to learn, Nephew," Raistlin replied. "Much to learn about what was truly important. Farewell. My brother and our friends await." He smiled. "Tanis, as usual, is impatient to be gone."

Palin saw before him a river of souls, a river that flowed placidly, slowly among the banks of the living.

Sunlight shone upon the river, starlight sparkled in its fathomless depths. The souls of the dead looked ahead of them into a sea whose waves lapped upon the shores of eternity: a sea that would carry each on new journeys.

Standing on the shore, waiting for his twin, was Caramon Majere.

Raistlin stepped forward, towards the river, towards Caramon, but before he had taken more than one step, a voice stopped him.

"Wait."

Raistlin turned to see Mishakal looking at him intently. Her eyes were still clouded with grief at the loss of her consort, but her gaze was as firm as ever. "There is one who I would have join you, Archmagus. The cleric, Crysania, Highpriestess of the Temple of Paladine, has done her duty tenfold to this world. It is far past her time to depart, yet still she clings. The departure of her god as shook her greatly. Her time is not far off now. I would that someone accompany her on her next journey."

An eyebrow climbed on Raistlin's forehead. "My lady, I hardly think that I would be a suitable guide for the Lady Crysania. I doubt even more that she would accept me if I came. You do remember the circumstances under which we parted, do you not?"

Mishakal frowned slightly. "Your journey into the Abyss will never be forgotten, Raistlin Majere, you may be sure of that."

A thin smile appeared on Raistlin's lips. "Then you understand why I think this request is faulty. I am tired, my Lady Mishakal. It is also far past my time to depart." He turned again, meaning again to join his twin.

Mishakal's eyes hardened slightly. "You blinded the cleric in your arrogance. You would leave her to walk alone in her next journey? As I recall, you had feelings for her as much as she had feelings for you."

Raistlin bowed his hooded head slightly, and sighed. Turning back to Mishakal, he said, "I manipulated her. I schemed around her. What I did, I did to serve my own aims. Yes, I had feelings for her, but I recognized that it would be folly to pursue that course."

"And now?" Mishakal asked.

Raistlin's hourglass eyes narrowed at her slightly. "The Lady Crysania would be better suited to find another companion."

"I would not be talking to you if there was another."

Raistlin still maintained an outward air of stoicism, but inwardly he found himself surprised. _The Lady Crysania had never sought a suitor? Odd, even for a cleric. Even beyond marriage, she had no close friends?_ Raistlin answered that one for himself. The Lady Crysania, while she had lost some of her haughtiness during her trials, had never really allowed herself to become close with anyone. The only one who had come close enough to being her friend was Elistan, but given what Mishakal had just told him, he doubted that Elistan was waiting for Crysania in the realm beyond. Speaking of Mishakal, the goddess appeared to be growing impatient by the prolonged silence.

Even as that thought crossed his mind, Mishakal said, "Raistlin Majere, I cannot allow you to stay here for an extended period of time. You must leave, and soon, so make your decision, quickly."

Raistlin remained still for a minute, lost in thought. He looked up at the goddess. "Where is she?"

Mishakal waved a hand dismissively. "At the old Temple of Paladine, but it matters not. I will send you there if you agree to accompany her. Have you made your decision, Archmagus?"

Raistlin studied the goddess for a few more seconds then nodded, slowly. "Send me to the cleric, my Lady. I will join her."

Mishakal's lips turned upward in a small smile and she waved her hand again, this time with a flourish of magic and an accompanying susurration. The world spun around Raistlin, similar to a wish spell, and his surroundings shifted and contorted as he was teleported to the Temple of Paladine. Within seconds, he was standing in one of the far of corners of the Lady Crysania's bedchamber.

* * *

><p>Raistlin stood in the shadows, taking inventory of the room around him.<p>

It was really quite bare, with little furniture – a plain bed, a small desk, and a worn, but comfortable armchair in the corner. A stark contrast to the extravagant rooms in the Temple of Ishtar, this room was simple, but comfortable.

Raistlin smirked. Crysania had always been nothing but predictable and painfully easy to read. She was clearly trying to set herself as apart from the Kingpriest as possible. A wise decision, in any case.

A dry, wracking sob disturbed his thoughts and he turned to look at the woman on the bed, noting, with some discomfort, that she was still in her nightgown. Raistlin mentally laughed at himself scornfully for his embarrassment – had he not, at one time, torn her dress from her shoulder in a fit of rage?

_Yes,_ Raistlin answered himself, _but that was under a much different set of circumstances…she offered herself to me, I refused her. This time…one might say **I** am offering myself to **her**. _

Irony really was quite a funny thing.

He studied Crysania, trying to ascertain the cause of her tears. Mostly, he was just procrastinating - trying to put off the inevitable conversation, but he'd be fooling himself if he wasn't curious. Crysania was quite a strong individual, and she rarely reduced herself to dramatic expressions of emotion. For her to be crying, even when alone in her chambers, was uncharacteristic.

He moved forward quietly, "Revered Daughter."

Crysania's head snapped up, tears ending abruptly, her expression changing to one of utter confusion. She turned towards the sound of Raistlin's voice, disbelieving. She would recognize that dry, rasping whisper anywhere.

Suddenly, a cold, humorless smile lifted her lips. "Either I am having a very vivid dream, or someone is playing a very clever, very **cruel** trick on me. First Paladine, now Raistlin. I should have suspected something of this sort from the start."

Suddenly, Raistlin understood the cause of her tears, but he decided to play dumb in the hopes of squeezing out a few drops of valuable information. "Paladine? I hardly understand, Revered Daughter."

Crysania shook her head and turned away from him firmly. "Be gone, apparition. I have enough trouble sleeping without this."

Raistlin stepped closer, "I assure you, Revered Daughter, I am no apparition."

Crysania laughed, the sound as dry and humorless as her previous smile. "Raistlin Majere died years ago. He is gone, and now you are tormenting me with his memory."

_Tormenting? Interesting word choice…so he still meant something to the Lady Crysania, did he then?_

Raistlin remained silent, thinking through this new development. Clearly Crysania had been aware of Paladine's return to the world. This made logical sense – after all, clerics have close connections to their gods. Crysania would have felt Paladine's return and his departure. Hence the tears. His appearance had only convinced her that this morning's events were a dream, or an illusion. Again, he could see how she would have reached that conclusion – one impossibility was already too much, but two? On the same night?

He was unsure how to convince her that he was not a figment of her imagination.

Or, even, if he should just use this unexpected opportunity to escape before he lost his courage.

Meanwhile, Crysania had turned back to look at him curiously. His lack of response had surprised her: silence was something the real Raistlin would have opted for, instead of a lengthy explanation. The dark mage had always kept his cards close to his chest, preferring to remain mysterious and reticent, thinking every thought through thoroughly before imparting it to others.

"Rai-," she stopped herself. "If you truly are Raistlin Majere, tell me something only he would know."

"I did not come here to play games with you, Revered Daughter. I have a purpose, and very little time to fulfill that purpose," he stepped forward, "I can assure you that one would find it hard-pressed to imitate **me**," a thin-lipped smile appeared on his lips. "I doubt the dark Tower of Palanthas would have remained un-touched for so long if the Master of Past and Present was so easily impersonated."

Crysania's eyes widened with a sharp intake of breath. The sardonic jibe, the inflections of his speech, the self-confidence bordering on arrogance...no, this **was **Raistlin. She didn't know how it was possible, but she knew she had been a fool to believe that anyone could, or would even dare to impersonate the hourglass mage.

"You truly are him," she breathed, rising up and, hardly thinking, ran towards him to throw her arms around his thin frame.

The minute she realized what she had done, she expected Raistlin to thrust her away, to sneer at her derisively.

His reaction was not as she anticipated.

He stiffened slightly in her arms, then, hesitantly, raised his arms to pull her closer.

Crysania was shocked, but didn't waste the opportunity, deciding to enjoy the moment while it lasted. She buried her head in the soft black velvet robes, laying her head against his chest. She listened to his heartbeat, could hear the rattle of his lungs as he breathed in and out. She breathed in the familiar, faintly cloying scent of rose petals and spices, his spell components, the smell that had always been vaguely appealing and repelling to her at the same time. Slender hands reached up to gently stroke her hair, drawing the bed-mussed strands of hair between his long fingers.

Suddenly, as though realizing what he had been doing, he drew back and studied her. "We must leave Revered Daughter."

Crysania looked at him questioningly. "Leave? What do you mean? I have no intention of leaving, Raistlin," she looked at him sharply. "Last time I left with you, things did not turn out so well, as I remember."

Raistlin winced, but did not acknowledge this last statement. "You mentioned Paladine before, my lady?"

Crysania nodded slowly. "I had felt his presence earlier this morning, but no sooner then I had established a firm connection that I felt him leave, with a word of farewell."

"Yes," Raistlin replied, "I had suspected as much. The gods have returned, Crysania."

Crysania's eyes widened in joy and disbelief. "Returned? How is this possible? How did they manage to return? Why have they returned? Wh-"

"Revered Daughter," Raistlin said quietly, but reprovingly. "Perhaps you ought to let me finish my explanation before starting to ask questions."

Chastened, Crysania nodded silently, looking at him questioningly again.

Turning away from her to take a seat in the previously noted armchair, Raistlin began his story, telling Crysania how Takhisis had stolen Krynn away from the other gods to serve her own nefarious ends. He explained how Tasslehoff had activated the magical device, taking him to the future Krynn before his death, and how further use of the device had alerted Raistlin to Krynn's location. Raistlin had told the other gods of this, and with his help, they had been able to return to the world and overthrow the Queen of Darkness.

Here Raistlin paused and looked at Crysania carefully. She had had to sit down on the bed mid-story, so dumbfounded was she by the fantastic tale. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him now, knowing that he had not yet finished telling the story.

"Crysania…" Raistlin hesitated, deciding that it was best to broach this bit gently. "Paladine had to step down in order to maintain the balance between light and dark in the world."

Crysania swayed slightly, then nodded. In all truth, she had guessed this from the beginning, but had waited for Raistlin to finish both out of politeness, and in the hope that maybe she was wrong. Surprisingly, however, she found that, while shaken, she was not nearly upset as she had expected. Mostly, she just felt a wave of tiredness at Raistlin's words, tiredness and acceptance.

Raistlin studied her silently for a minute then bowed his head in respect for her sorrow. "I am sorry, Revered Daughter."

Crysania shook herself as if rising out of deep water, and looked up at him once more. "I don't believe your story is yet completed, Raistlin," she said quite calmly.

Raistlin nodded. "My task finished, I was about to depart with Caramon and the others when Mishakal stopped me. She…implored me to come to you, saying that you had served your duty to this world 'tenfold,' as she put it, and that your time had come." Raistlin's golden hourglass eyes fastened on her now, looking hesitant and…nervous? "She wanted you to have someone to accompany you on your next journey."

Crysania looked down into her lap, looking at her hands, pale, veined, and worn from years of work and study. _Wait…_Her head snapped up. "My sight…"

Raistlin smiled slightly. "It does not come close to compensating you for the trials I have put you through, but it is a start."

Crysania stepped forward. "There was once a time, Raistlin when I understood you could never love me because your love for the magic outweighed any affection you might have for others," she paused looking at him askance. "What changed?"

Raistlin stepped forward too, and bent over her so that his forehead nearly touched hers. "I realized what was truly important," he said simply.

Crysania raised an eyebrow at him, grey eyes as sharp and keen as ever, un-dulled through the years she had spent without sight. "You'll have to do better than that, Raistlin," she said teasingly, but with a hint of steel behind the words. "You'll understand if I'm a bit...reluctant to believe you."

Raistlin, hearing the teasing hint of her words, understood that she didn't mean to bring up the past to use it against him, but knew she had the right to question his motives. Inclining his head slightly, he replied, "Power has an end, Crysania. In another life, I once achieved godhood. I saw what that future brought me - nothing, no happiness, no life, no creation, just destruction, and, ultimately, oblivion. This, however...," he drew his arms around her once more to bring her closer, "this is far more fulfilling. Sentimental as it may seem, love does not not have an end, provided that it is pure. That does not mean that we cast all reason and logic aside, but our affections for others are what makes us," he smiled ruefully, "it just took me an abnormal amount of time to understand that."

Crysania up at Raistlin, saw that his customary smirk and disdainful expression were gone, to be replaced by a look of fondness and tenderness. Gazing into his hourglass eyes, she saw that he truly meant what he said. She lifted her head to meet Raistlin's, so that their lips brushed. "I will join you."

* * *

><p>A wish spell carried the two back to the shores of the River of Souls, back to the shores on which Caramon waited. Hand in hand, Crysania and Raistlin walked forward and joined the other nine heroes of the War of the Lance, stepping into the current and allowing it to carry them into the endless sea, the eleventh companion in their journey to the realm beyond.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Please recognize that this is completely alien territory to me. This would most definitely be classified as romancefluff - and I hate fluff. If someone gave me a fluff pillow, I'd cut it open, and use it to stuff the Monty Python rabbit I'm currently making. This story is sappy and sentimental, and...urgh, I just feel unclean writing it. I am thoroughly disgusted with the fact that I actually wrote a romance. _

_That said, I do NOT like how things ended with Raistlin and Crysania in the Dragonlance series. The only pragmatic response? Create my own ending. Therefore, I am forced to venture into a new world of…urgh….fluffiness, to give these two the ending they "deserve," although I'm sure there are others who could have done a better job of it. Feedback is appreciated. :)  
><em>


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